


A Gift for Irma

by tea_for_lupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bet there's not much fic about that, Female Friendship, Gen, Irma Pince likes mystery novels, Magical DIY, Minerva is handy with a hammer, Women Being Awesome, christmas gift!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_for_lupin/pseuds/tea_for_lupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irma has had a rough year and Pomona wants to make her something special for Christmas. Set an unspecified time pre-Trio (but not by much).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift for Irma

**Title:** A Gift for Irma  
 **Author:** [](http://tea-for-lupin.livejournal.com/profile)[**tea_for_lupin**](http://tea-for-lupin.livejournal.com/)  
 **Recipient:** [](http://woldy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://woldy.livejournal.com/)**woldy**  
 **Rating:** T (for a spot of mild magical swearing)  
 **Word Count:** ~1500  
 **Characters and/or Pairings:** Pomona Sprout, Minerva McGonagall, Irma Pince.  
 **Summary:** Irma has had a rough year and Pomona wants to make her something special for Christmas. Set an unspecified time pre-Trio (but not by much).  
 **Warnings:** Nothing to see here.  
 **Disclaimer:** No house elves were harmed in the creation of this fic. Also, all characters belong to JKR, etc etc etc.  
 **Author's Notes:** Woldy, a very happy Christmas to you! I hope you enjoy this. Being the crafty crafter that I am, I couldn't resist your suggested prompt of a character making a gift, and I trust you'll find there is a sufficiency of women being awesome, too.

Oh, and massive hugs and piles of chocolate to ___ for responding so swiftly and helpfully to my almost very last minute plea for beta assistance.

  
'Mandrake balls!'

The hammer missed its mark for the third time, banged Pomona's thumb and landed on the floor, narrowly missing her feet and knocking over a carefully balanced stack of wooden boards. The plump little witch kicked at them. 'Oh, I'll feed you to the flaming hellebores for fuel, you useless, good for nothing pile of --'

'Pomona, what _are_ you doing?'

Pomona leapt half a foot in the air and spun round to find Minerva's tall, thin frame in the doorway. 'Oh, it's only you,' she said glumly, releasing the Disillusionment charm she had hastily flung over all her collapsed handiwork, and sucked on her injured thumb with a rueful expression. 'What are you doing here?'

Minerva raised an eyebrow. 'Do try to restrain your ecstasy at my presence, Pomona. I was doing my rounds and happened to see the lights on all the way down here, so I came to investigate, of course. What in Merlin's name are you up to with all these bits of wood?'

Pomona flushed a little, her round face looking more like an apple than ever. 'Well, you'll probably think it's silly, Min --'

'Quite possibly,' Minerva agreed, but she was smiling fondly at her friend.

'-- I'm trying to make a Christmas present for Irma.' Pomona wrinkled her nose. 'It's not working terribly well, though. It's a bookshelf,' she added, in response to Minerva's unasked question. 'Well, in theory, anyway...'

'A _bookshelf_?'

'Yes, but you see, the Malleus charm keeps backfiring on me -- I'm not much of a handywitch.' The Herbology Professor Summoned a couple of large flowerpots, flipped them upside down, and plonked herself down on one. With a wave she offered the other to Minerva, who surreptitiously Scourgified it before perching on its edge.

'My dear, pardon me for asking, but are you sure that Irma actually needs another bookshelf?' Minerva's mouth twitched. 'She does have that whole library, you know.'

Pomona rolled her eyes. 'Most amusing, Min.' She waved her wand at a watering can and some small jars that lay on a nearby bench. 'We may as well have some tea.' The watering can-turned-teapot poured steaming liquid into two large mugs that stood where the jars had been a moment before. Minerva accepted hers with a nod of thanks. 'Ah, that's better,' Pomona said, curling her hands around her own warm mug. 'I suppose I'd better tell you about it... Of course you know what a trying year Irma has had -- what with her mother dying, and that nasty illness she had just before term started, it left her so tired -- I can't remember what it was exactly --'

'Too much time in the library and not enough in the fresh air watching Quidditch matches, I'd warrant,' Minerva said with a sniff.

Pomona chuckled. 'As if you watch Quidditch for the fresh air, Min.'

'Fresh air is one of the many benefits of watching Quidditch matches, Pomona, another is the pleasure of seeing the expression on Severus' face when his precious Slytherins lose -- an expression I hope to see much more frequently in the near future. In any event, continue.'

'Oh yes -- where was I?' Pomona rubbed her nose. 'Well, Irma had been ill, and I happened to find her one day simply in tears (you won't tell anyone, will you, Min?) -- she was so exhausted, the poor thing, trying to get rid of a colony of red-winged book-campers that had infested part of the Potions section. They were jolly well dug in, too, little rows of tents and all, I'd never seen the like. Anyway, Irma was in quite a state, so I stopped on to help her, and then we had a cup of tea and she was telling me about this collection of Muggle books that she has.'

Minerva blinked. 'I didn't know that Irma collected Muggle books.'

Pomona took a sip of tea. 'Neither did I -- that's the thing! She such a private person, tucked away up there in the library, I really don't know much about her at all. It turns out she has this collection, Muggle first editions mostly. I think she said they were written by someone called --' she screwed up her face in a moment's thought '-- Agatha Christie. Yes, that's it. I've never heard of her, have you?'

Minerva shook her head.

'Well, you see,' Pomona flushed a bit pink again, 'it occurred to me then that it might be nice to get a shelf for Irma's special books. I mean, just for something... well, something to show her that she's not invisible, d'you see? I don't think any of us really appreciates Irma, and all the things she does for the library. Not that she always makes it easy, mind you! Still, I mean, it is Christmas after all... But there wasn't a terribly good selection in Hogsmeade, and the owl-order ones were jolly expensive, so when I found these pieces of timber left over from some enclosure Hagrid was building for old Kettleburn, I thought why not try my hand at it?' She scowled at the higgledy-piggledy pile. 'It's harder than I expected, though.'

'It was an excellent and very kind thought of yours, my dear,' Minerva said, standing up and briskly rolling the sleeves of her robe. 'But never mind about that Malleus charm. What we need is -- dare I say it -- to do things the good old Muggle way. Do you have another hammer?'

And thus it came about that anyone who happened to walk past the school workshops that frosty winter's night would have been treated to the rather astonishing sight of Pomona (in her earth-spattered clothes, grey curls bouncing) and Minerva (robes transfigured to sensible overalls and a tartan kerchief round her head) sawing and hammering away into the small hours.

'It's a bit wonky, don't you think?' Pomona smothered a yawn and looked critically at the four-shelved construction, putting her head first on one side and then the other.

'It is not 'wonky',' Minerva said firmly. 'It's simply that we are up at an unreasonable hour and are too tired to see straight.' She made a subtle lengthening Transfiguration to the side that was a touch too short.

'I saw that, you know,' Pomona grinned, then shook her head as another yawn overtook her. 'Oh, Merlin, but I'm tired!'

Minerva concealed a yawn of her own rather more successfully and pushed a couple of stray locks of hair back behind her ears. 'Yes, we'd best get ourselves off to bed, I think.' She pulled her thick cloak around her shoulders as they left the workshop. The sky was very dark, and full of stars; snow crunched underfoot. Pomona cast a Warming charm about the two of them.

'Where did you learn so much about Muggle construction, Min, anyway?' she asked.

'A relic of my misspent youth,' Minerva replied with prim solemnity. They both chuckled all the way back to the Castle.

Two days later, it was Christmas morning. Pomona, having reduced the awkwardly-wrapped bookshelf to the size of a matchbox, made her way to Irma's chambers to deliver it.

'Pomona, you _made_ this?' The librarian's face, usually pinched and sour-looking even under the best of circumstances, was lit with astonished delight as the present Unshrunk before her eyes. Pulling aside the last shred of wrapping paper (which had not survived the transition terribly well), Irma gently ran her fingers over the wooden shelves. 'For _me_?'

'Well, yes I did - though with considerable help from Minerva, I must admit.' Feeling a sudden touch of uncertain, anxious pride, Pomona added, 'I do hope you like it...'

Irma looked for one alarming moment as though she might burst into tears. 'This is the -- the most lovely thing anyone has ever given me.' She Summoned a small wooden chest from the other side of the room. Inside were several rows of carefully packed hardcover books in more or less lurid paper jackets. With a couple of waves of her wand Irma transferred them to their new home. 'Oh, look at that -- simply perfect.' She took one of the books down, and offered it to Pomona. 'I really don't know how to thank you -- or Minerva. But perhaps you would like to borrow this? It really is _just_ the thing for enjoying with a cup of tea.'

'I'd love to,' Pomona said, taking the book carefully. 'A very Merry Christmas to you, Irma.'

'Oh, Pomona, you too.' And Irma bent down to kiss the shorter witch quickly on the cheek.

Later that evening, pleasantly full of pudding and basking in the warm glow of having made someone genuinely happy (as well as several other varieties of seasonal spirit), Pomona was seated in her favourite chair in the staff common room, thoroughly caught up in _The Mysterious Affair at Styles_. There was a hot cup of tea by her side, and next to that lay her gift from Minerva: another book, entitled _Weekend DIY_ (an obscure Muggle term seemingly related to tools and construction). Pomona could hardly wait. But first, she just needed to find out who killed Emily Inglethorpe...


End file.
